Deepest Bonds

Deepest Bonds

*

Midnight Talks

*

It wasn't until much later that both Sirius and Snape had calmed enough to talk at least somehow sensibly. Mostly they talked about Remus. Sirius was shocked to find out about the relationship between his best friend and Snape, but he still listened to the quiet, well-controlled voice that told their story, emotionless now that Snape had let his grief out in the crying fit Sirius had encouraged.

He listened and listened, once again letting Snape's voice wash all hurtful thoughts out of his mind. This time, however, the voice was not giving him instructions as of where to go. That silky, controlled voice was telling him memories, memories of the man that had been his best friend, Snape's only friend besides the Headmaster, and the Slytherin's only lover and only love. It was not easy, nothing would be easy about Remus and the memories of him, not ever again, but it was bearable. And somehow, in some very odd way, it helped him. But just a little.

While listening, Sirius also watched Snape. He'd been surprised and shocked as Snape had indeed cried. He would have much rather seen the man as an unemotional, cold shell, but he was slowly starting to realize that it had all been just a mask, a mask the man always wore to defend himself from the rest of the world. For Snape thought he truly had to defend himself, he thought that because all his life, he'd been taught to be afraid of other people and what they would do to him, what they would think about him, how they would react to his doings. It was not a true life, not really. It was -- well, it was slavery, pure and simple. Although it was not simple, not by any means.

Sirius absent-mindedly fiddled with the fine silver ring he now wore on his hand. He also lazily wondered whether Snape's previous collar had been genuine silver, and if it had, how Remus had managed not to hurt himself when the werewolf and Snape had been together. Other than the loss of humanity, Remus had always considered his silver "allergy" the most difficult aspect of his Lycanthropy, even more so than the painful transformations. Even in Hogwarts, he had always had to keep a knife, a fork, and a spoon hid in a special pocket in his sleeve, where they could easily be taken to use, so nobody would notice that he didn't eat with silver, but with the wizarding version of stainless steel.

Then again, of course it hadn't been. Malfoys could be snobs, and they could have even their slave's collar be made of silk, but that kind of collar, pure silver? For a slave? Now, that was just ridiculous. Not even Lucius Malfoy could be that snobbish.

...Hopefully, that was. Remus had always loved hugging people; he would have been heartbroken if he couldn't embrace the person he loved.

Remus. Remus. Always Remus. The werewolf had been the centre of Sirius's life for the short two years between their reunion and his "death". In this new life, without James around, Remus had been the person he'd clung on, the one steady, staying thing in his life.

Now Remus was away. And Sirius knew that picking up the tiny pieces that were left of his old life would be very difficult without Remus there to help him. It would not be impossible, but almost.

When Snape at last fell silent, having told all about the friendship and love he'd received from Remus, Sirius opened his mouth and started to tell. He told everything, starting back from the day when he'd met the small, shy boy in the Hogwarts Express. The Animagus then went on, telling how they'd found out about Remus's Lycanthropy, how he'd become an Animagus for his friend, the painful suspicions about Remus being the traitor to the Light Side, their reunion after his time in Azkaban -- everything. And Snape listened, sat quietly there in front of him and listened, not saying a word, only nodding every now and then to show that he was indeed listening. And somehow, it just felt right -- to tell about Remus to the only other person who'd ever known the werewolf as well as he had.

Neither of them had spoken about Remus with anybody else. Sirius hadn't simply because he had only known about Remus's death for some hours, and Severus hadn't because he wasn't one to bare his heart to anyone. But as they sat there, talking and listening in turns, sharing all their memories and thoughts about the werewolf who'd been an important part of both their lives, they knew they'd never talk about him with anybody else. A couple of words here and there, sure, or an idle comment to somebody talking about Remus, but never would they again bare their hearts in such a way. Nobody would ever understand, for nobody had ever known Remus like they had -- nobody else had been his best friend, or his lover and love. This was for them, and them alone. In a way, it was for Remus as well -- they knew he'd been delighted to know that they actually spoke to each other.

It had been over Remus and the regrettable Shrieking Shack incident that had finally driven them from schoolboys not liking each other to enemies in life and death. And, seemingly, it was over Remus that they could talk, listen to each other, and feel right when doing that.

At last, however, Sirius, too, was empty of things to talk about. After sitting for a moment in silence, he said, "Snape?"

The only response he got was a simple, "Yes, Master?" The Slytherin's eyes instantly shot up to him, and Snape looked as if he'd been woken up from some kind of a daze.

"I know we cannot keep our bond a secret forever, but I'll be damned if I don't at least try something," sighed Sirius. "As I won't become a teacher until after Christmas, I suppose I could simply hide from the students at least until then. That way, we can avoid being exposed for still some time. The teachers will of course know about my presence, but with a bit of creative Gryffindor madness and some Slytherin cunning we should be able to keep them in dark for quite some time. This addressing thing, does it also count when you're talking about me to somebody else? Or if you're talking to a group of people that includes me?"

"No, Master," replied Snape softly. "It's only when I'm talking directly to you."

"Very well." Sirius nodded briefly. "And the bowing thing? Is there any way to avoid that?"

"Well..." Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "In fact, there is -- or at least there should be. If you're talking directly to me at the moment one of us crosses the threshold to the room where the other is, I'm not required to bow to you."

"Excellent." The Gryffindor grinned broadly. "Some of our usual fighting and bickering, and nobody will ever notice anything!"

"Yeah, that's it," muttered Snape sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Then, however, he let the subject drop -- even though he handled it with a dry, businesslike tone that made Sirius truly wonder, he obviously wasn't wholly comfortable with it -- and instead watched the Animagus intently. "May I ask you a question, Master?"

"Sure, go ahead," said Sirius, a bit surprised. This far, Snape hadn't made a single question that hadn't touched directly either whatever Sirius wanted to know or a permission for his slave "duties".

"As you are a child from a pureblooded family, how don't you know anything about the slavery bond and its requirements?" When Sirius's expression darkened at this, the other man hasted to say, "I -- sorry, Master. I did not mean to upset you." Then, with an almost frightened tone he could have never associated with Snape, the Slytherin added, "You aren't going to punish me... Are you?"

"No, Snape, I'm not going to punish you," sighed Sirius. In his mind he vowed that if he'd had both Stephen and Lucius Malfoy in front of him at the moment, he'd killed them both with his bare hands. Snape was not supposed to be like this -- weak and frightened. Snape was obviously meant to be strong, stubborn, self-confident, and even more courageous than any Gryffindor, even if he only was brave in his own, very twisted way. This broken man who'd been taught to be afraid to death of displeasing and punishment was just... wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.

After a moment of silence, Sirius realized that Snape was still watching him closely, expecting him to say something, anything. So, he decided to answer the Slytherin's question. After all, what could he lose? "About your question... Well, my family was certainly not one of the best. Actually, it was one of the worsts. Everybody in my family has about forever been in Slytherin -- however, I started very early to show signs of my Gryffindor nature. My parents didn't really care about me after I turned five or so, other than to send me nasty letters when I was at Hogwarts. I was mostly raised by house-elves, and while I was properly told about magic as well as birds and bees, the old wizarding traditions have stayed rather unfamiliar to me." With another sigh, he added, "Although I wish I didn't have to know anything about this particular tradition. Shit, I wish that no one knew anything about it! Nobody deserves a fate like yours."

"What we wish is rarely what we get, Master," said Snape softly. "And certainly we do not get what we deserve. How elseway would Remus be dead, and Draco Malfoy alive?"

"Unfortunately, that's too true," said Sirius with a grim nod. Then he raised his eyes once again to look at Snape. "And what about you?" he inquired. "What was your family like, Snape?"

"I'm a slave, Master. I don't have much of a family," said Snape bitterly, but his words were not directed against Sirius. "Well, there was my mother, Sarina Snape -- she was sold to another family when I was about three. About my father, I've never been too sure, but I do suspect it was Stephen Malfoy himself, not just another slave. My mother was his favourite at her own time -- he told me that in more than one occasion. He liked comparing me and my... skills to those of my mother."

Sirius stared at him in horror. "He -- he was your father?" blurted out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue and force the words back. "Snape, are you telling me that your own father raped you on regular basis? And then your halfbrother did the same?" Even what he'd heard before had been inhuman. This, however, was simply insane. His family had been bad, but at least his father had never sunk so low as to rape him. And ever since Snape had been seven, wasn't it? That was sick. Sick and wrong.

"Why not?" Snape said, and shrugged, although the slight grimace on his face didn't match the carelessness of his words. "I was not really Stephen's son, or Lucius's halfbrother, nor was I any true relation to them. I was just a slave, and a slave's son -- and that's all I've ever been."

"So... Is slavery always inheritable, then?" asked Sirius. He was now determined to get to the bottom of this horridness. What he'd heard was just inhuman. It was just simply wrong.

"In theory, no, it isn't, as it isn't biological. But practically, it is," replied Snape. Suddenly, he sounded rather tired -- both sleepy and tired of life, tired of the nightmare that he had to call his life. "There's a certain ritual that needs to be performed on the child soon after it is born, preferably sometime during the first forty-eight hours after the birth. In ancient times, there were two kinds of slavery bonds -- some that could be placed on anyone, but were removable, and others that were permanent, but could only be cast upon a slave's child. Nowadays, we only know the permanent, irreversible one. Thus, not an outsider can become a slave, but, courtesy of their masters, the offsprings of ancient families of slaves are almost without exception made slaves themselves."

"Then is it --" started Sirius, but then noticed that Snape was almost falling asleep on his seat. He didn't know what shocked him most, the fact that he'd spent most of the night to some ungodly hours talking with Snape, or the fact that Snape's usually so calm and controlled mask was rapidly crumbling. Crying, getting tired. Of course he'd previously known, somewhere deep inside his mind, that Snape was just a human, but it wasn't until now that he wholly believed it.

So, Sirius deliberately forgot about what he'd been going to say and instead said, "Go to sleep, Snape. You obviously need it."

"So do you, Master," replied Snape with a slight yawn -- again, a gesture Sirius had thought would be impossible for Snape to even produce. "I think we'd better both go to sleep." However, as he got this sentence finished, he was already on the door. Sirius didn't know whether it was because Snape just simply wanted to get into his bed as soon as possible or because of Sirius's half-order to go to sleep, and he didn't particularly even want to know.

So, Snape left Sirius's rooms, and soon they were both in their beds. However, despite the late -- or, rather, early -- hour, it took a long time before either of them finally fell asleep, so deep they were in their thoughts.